Amara pov
The café grew busier as lunch hour approached. A middle-aged woman in a navy dress walked up to the counter, barking orders at the staff. My heart skipped when I realized she might be the manager.
Gathering my courage, I stood and approached. "Excuse me, ma'am… Are you hiring by any chance? Even part-time?"
She looked me over, eyes pausing at my accent, my simple clothes. "Experience?"
"I worked at a small bakery back home, and I've done customer service," I offered quickly.
She hesitated. "Bring your résumé by tomorrow morning. We might need someone for afternoons."
Relief flooded me. "Thank you—thank you so much!"
---
I turned back toward my table—just as the door opened, and he walked in.
The same man from the morning. Dark coat, calm steps, and a gaze that seemed to command the air around him. Behind him was the broad-shouldered man who had followed him earlier.
For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
He didn't see me at first; he ordered a black coffee and spoke quietly to the man beside him. His presence seemed to make the air sharper, like winter sneaking into a warm room.
Then his gaze lifted, and our eyes met.
Recognition sparked. His expression barely changed, but something softened in his gaze—just slightly. I felt my cheeks warm.
I turned back to my seat, pretending to scroll my phone. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure people could hear it.
Why is he here?
Does he remember me?
Of course he doesn't—it was just one moment on the street…
But when I dared to look again, he was still watching.
A strange, quiet moment passed between us, like we were speaking without words. Then the other man leaned close and murmured something, and the spell broke.
He picked up his coffee and turned to leave—but just before he reached the door, he paused. Over his shoulder, he glanced back once more, eyes finding mine like a secret.
Then he was gone, swallowed by the street. I
pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breath.
This city felt colder than home, harder too. But now, somewhere in its endless noise and crowded streets, there was someone whose gaze had found mine—twice.
And though I didn't know his name, a part of me couldn't help but hope our paths would cross again.
Because New York was big, but it wasn't impossible.
And sometimes, impossible things had a way of happening.
pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breath.
This city felt colder than home, harder too. But now, somewhere in its endless noise and crowded streets, there was someone whose gaze had found mine—twice.
And though I didn't know his name, a part of me couldn't help but hope our paths would cross again.
Because New York was big, but it wasn't impossible.
And sometimes, impossible things had a way of happening.
The rest of the afternoon felt like walking through a half-dream. My hands still trembled from the moment our eyes had met again in the café. It was silly, I told myself—romanticizing a stranger, letting his memory follow me through crowded streets and subway tunnels.
But deep down, something about him felt… different. Dangerous, maybe—but not the kind of danger that pushes you away. The kind that draws you closer, even when you know you shouldn't look twice.
---
That evening, I texted Eniola, my best friend back home.
> "Met someone today. Twice, actually."
"Who?? Tell me everything!"
"I don't even know his name. Just… a man in a black coat. He helped me pick up my things, then later I saw him again at a café."
"Hmm. Be careful o. New York men no dey smile like that for nothing!"
I laughed, but her warning settled in my chest like a small stone.